


Ein Kleiner Walzer

by Papillonae



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Austria mention, Ballroom Dancing, Cinderella Elements, F/F, Lesbian Character, One-Sided Attraction, Secret Admirer, Waltzing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 15:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papillonae/pseuds/Papillonae
Summary: Liechtenstein is a maidservant in the Habsburg Palace - her head constantly in the clouds with daydreams of dancing at the ball, and with heartsick longing for a feeling she dare not name. On the eve of the ball, she is offered the chance of a lifetime. Originally drafted (and a very late entry!) for APH Yuri Week, Day 2 Prompts: Meeting the Family/Dance.





	Ein Kleiner Walzer

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was actually inspired by a very short comic that I roughly translated, just to get a sense of the story behind it. From there it spiraled into this. If you'd like to read the comic, just post this link in your URL to read it on my personal tumblr: http://bonjourxrenae.tumblr.com/post/172628360810

_1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…_

Midsummer had touched the garden; each shrub opulent with light-green leaves yellowed by the heat of the sun. The grass shuffled dryly beneath Liechtenstein’s feet as she stumbled awkwardly in place, her knees bending and ankles twisting to the music in her head. This part of the garden was mostly secluded, hidden by shade and topiary – a quiet place she frequented to take a break from her chores.

She lifted her skirts up higher and tried to glimpse her feet as she attempted to dance a solitary waltz.

_1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…_

It had been a dream of hers to learn how to dance the Viennese waltz. For as long as she could remember, she had always watched politely from the walls with the other servants, her heart leaping at the whirling of the dancers and the ease of their synchronization. What effortlessness in their dance! All of them so brilliant in the golden-crystal glow of the chandelier. They all seemed so unearthly and light-footed, almost as specters floating across the ballroom floor…

Liechtenstein smiled at the memories of ballrooms and crystal chandeliers and she began to lightly twirl her skirts about, the same way she had seen it done by the dancers. Her long, flaxen hair spilled over her shoulders as she bobbed along to the morning birdsong and the rhythm of the orchestra playing in her mind.

_1, 2, 3… 1, 2—_

“Liechtenstein!”

She immediately dropped her skirts and cried out in surprise. Liechtenstein felt her face burn as she turned to see who had called to her.

Carrying a basket full of freshly washed linens, Hungary gave a good-natured laugh. She was dressed in her maid’s clothes (the ones she borrowed from their quarters); her apron was still wet with traces of suds from the soap in the wash bucket. A plain scarf was tied upon her head to keep the sun from touching her as she went to hang the laundry on the clothesline.

Dressed in humble clothes, or in lavish gowns – it didn’t matter. Liechtenstein shied away from her all the same.

“—Miss Hungary!” she stuttered, making some desperate attempt to wave herself away, as if she hadn’t just been goofing off.

Hungary stepped into the small garden circle and rested her basket against her hip. “What are you doing?” she asked, a playful tone touching her voice.

“Well, I… actually…” Liechtenstein’s voice faltered and her hands firmly gripped the sides of her skirt. She could hardly look Hungary in the eye. Why?

“I was… um… practicing.”

“Practicing?” Hungary’s expression softened in her curiosity.

Liechtenstein lifted her gaze ever so slightly, then quickly looked back down at her feet. She scuffed the grass, uprooting it.

“It's silly,” she admitted quietly, her hands fretfully wringing out one side of her skirt as she stumbled over her words, “but I wanted to practice dancing… in case I ever got to do it someday…”

Her smile twisted weirdly in her nervousness and she laughed in spite of herself. She hoped Hungary hadn’t noticed the creeping redness on her cheeks.

A cool wind passed between them. Hungary’s face betrayed nothing; the same sort of amused smirk pulled at her smile, touching her eyes as if she had just heard a good secret. “Well don’t stay out too long,” she chided jokingly, “there are still chores to be done.”

As Hungary turned to leave, Liechtenstein wanted to reach out to her, but she thought better of it and returned to her abandoned laundry basket in the gardens. 

* * *

 

_The introduction of Hungary into the Habsburg Palace was wildly ornate: a large gala was held in her honor, a long-held feast and celebration ensued. To Liechtenstein, who stood with the rest of the maids and staff, the noble Hungary was someone out of the pages of a fairy tale – a beautiful princess, unattainable in her stateliness and commanding presence. Liechtenstein knew little of her._

_When Austria offered her his arm and led her out onto the ballroom floor… Liechtenstein felt herself pulled, drawn into the romance of the two of them dancing – practically gliding in circles together. That first dance still plays in her mind when she hears the soft bounce of strings, the clinking of glasses among pleasant chatter…_

_Austria had spent most of his time with Hungary as she adjusted to her new life in the palace. Liechtenstein often watched them coming and going, always in and out of the drawing room with delegates in tow. She mostly minded her own chores: obediently brewing and bringing Austria his tea in the afternoon, arriving to her piano lessons on time, tending to the rest of the lesser tasks._

_Though she tried hard not to think about it, her thoughts kept flickering to her first memories of Hungary: Who was she? What was her life like before the Habsburgs? What kind of person was she? What did she feel, if anything, for Austria?_

_The last thought she squelched – the flickering ember of something dangerous._

_One early morning, Liechtenstein had been particularly more lethargic than usual and coming down with illness. Her hands were raw from washing linens and clothes, as red and warm as the fever which touched her face._

_She remembered stumbling on her way to the clothesline, just off the garden path, before the grass rushed up to meet her. A burning pain raked up her knees and palms as she tried to lift herself up, the spilled clothes long forgotten._

_She felt someone’s hands help her up. As soon as she was up on her feet, she met with bright eyes as green as garden foliage._

_“Are you alright?”_

_These were the first words Hungary ever spoke to her._

_The rest happened so fast, it had felt so much like a dream. It was Hungary that nursed her back to health. It was Hungary that completed her chores and took up the apron in her absence. Liechtenstein saw much of her in that time, even as she was in and out with fever – she would wake to her smile, which made for a perfect remedy._

_She had pinched herself several times. This was real. Hungary had been in the maid’s chambers, by her bedside… Hungary cared._

_With that knowledge, Liechtenstein felt as if she could soar._

_As they saw each other more and more and learned each other’s’ schedules, Hungary had made more of an effort to wrench herself away from Austria’s watch to talk a little while with her. Liechtenstein, unable to contain herself, had eagerly told her everything there was to know about herself._

_Hungary, in turn, had told her stories of her travels – from Constantinople to Spain, she had a story for every new place she visited. She had a peculiar knowledge of language, and Liechtenstein found herself awed by her ability to speak Latin. Hungary loved to talk of battles, and in the same breath she would excitedly talk about the music she heard from places Liechtenstein had never heard of._

_So many days and conversations passed between them. Yet even as they exchanged stories, there was still so much Liechtenstein longed for… a yearning she wouldn’t dare name._

_“If it’s alright, Liechtenstein,” Hungary said one day, as Liechtenstein escorted her in the halls, “I would like to do chores with the maidservants.”_

_“But, you are already so busy with the affairs of state,” Liechtenstein offered carefully, “and, if I may, it would be unseemly – a lady associating with her vassals, performing chores as a common maid…”_

_Hungary laughed. “There is no need to talk so formally to me, Liechtenstein!” She clapped her hands on the young maid’s shoulders. “Are we not friends?”_

_Liechtenstein felt herself heat up. “Friends…?” she squeaked, “I- I mean, friends… with me? Is it allowed…?”_

_“Of course it’s allowed!” Hungary smiled down at her, “please think of me as such from now on!”_

_It took a moment for Liechtenstein to process this, though it seemed as though she was a little too quick to smile at the thought. “Of course, milady.”_

_Hungary smiled, her gaze glinting from Liechtenstein’s eyes past the wisps of her pale hair, looking out the large window toward the garden._

_“If I were being honest… I would much rather be outside and soiling my hands with you and the maids than playing the noblewoman…”_

_Liechtenstein studied Hungary’s expression then: there was something very calm and nostalgic in the way she looked outside, yet something sad seemed to touch her eyes. It must have been lonely, to have left home to live in a new place. Hungary had spoke of historic battles – of Romans and Huns, Árpádian Kings and Tatars, and just recently, of the House of Osman, a name she’d heard frequently whispered through the palace right around Hungary’s arrival…_

_Whatever the circumstances, Hungary had been strong and brave enough to meet every single one. The least Liechtenstein could do was offer her whatever comfort was within a maidservant’s power._

_“Well, hanging the linens out to dry would keep you close to the garden,” she offered._

_Hungary turned her attentions back to her and smiled warmly. “I would like that very much.”_

_Liechtenstein felt a flutter in her chest. She liked that idea very much, too._

* * *

 

**_This is a letter from one who admires you from afar…_ **

The letter was not signed. It was left precariously in a large parcel in the maid’s chambers after Liechtenstein had returned from her chores in the afternoon.

She did find it odd… did Austria know of this? Would he have her abandon her duties… for this?

 ** _Please accept and wear this dress_ ,** the note had said, **_I picked it with you in mind_.**

Inside the parcel was a dark wine-colored dress with a ruffled, cream colored high collar. The trim of it matched her cuffs and the layers beneath the hem of her skirt. The other maidservants had marveled around her gift, each of them giggling and gossiping about her admirer’s intentions.

The parcel laid under her cot for the three days leading up to the ball. She’d had time to think about it. To take a chance, or to stay along the walls as the dancers pass her by once again… to be yet another maidservant standing against the walls, or to finally dance…

When the day of the ball came, Liechtenstein had made up her mind.

The maids had been insistent with her, and their persistence paid off. They giggled and gossiped around her, each of them taking turns bathing her, clothing her, brushing her hair; one of the maids had been kind enough to set a thin braid in her hair like a crown, tied delicately in the back with a dark ribbon of satin. _Just in case you meet your mystery suitor_ , she had said with a small nudge and a wink.

Liechtenstein had looked every bit a noblewoman – _a princess_ , she dared to think, but she swallowed the thought quickly.

It was still so strange. Hardly anyone who could write with such beautiful calligraphy and afford such fine clothing would have ever noticed the maidservants, let alone a young girl of a maidservant who daydreamed of ballrooms and dancing instead of completing her chores in a timely manner…

With the blessings of her fellow maidservants, Liechtenstein’s path was set. She took off toward the palace, her footsteps hastening through the gardens. Her heartbeat raced with the promise at the end of the letter fresh in her mind: 

**_I await you at the upcoming ball._ **

* * *

The tall candelabras were warmly lit, as was the chandelier in the center of the ceiling. The firelight from them swayed and bounced as the guests passed by, their movements soundless in the splendor of the ballroom.

All around, the guests had taken drinks of various colors and spoke politely amongst themselves. Many of them were noblemen and women, dressed in glittering things and rich robes and furs, their faces painted and handsome. They all mingled in small circles throughout the ballroom. At the foot of the grand staircase was a spread of hors d’oeuvres – Liechtenstein had just helped prepare them with the other maidservants just this morning.

She saw them reappearing and disappearing behind entryways with silver trays and platters of drinks. They all caught eyes with her and smiled knowingly. Guilt settled deep and heavy in the pit of her stomach, but she had to remember her mission.

At the far end of the ballroom floor sat a small orchestra of string players performing a gentle waltz. The musicians were engrossed in the music, and some were playing with their eyes closed, as if the melody were rooted in their hearts.

As Liechtenstein listened to the gentle pulse of the violins, she searched for her admirer. There wasn’t much time before the fanfare would announce Austria and Hungary’s entrance and the dancing would begin. Liechtenstein searched every face in the ballroom for some spark of familiarity – something more than just a polite smile – and found none. 

With each passing minute the search seemed more and more fruitless. What would she do? Ask if there was someone who had requested a maidservant attend the ball? The time drew ever nearer, and still there was no sign of anyone who would recognize her dress. All Liechtenstein managed to do was draw up concern from the guests she bumped into. She must have looked desperate in her search.

 

Then the trumpet call finally came.

Liechtenstein felt her heart sink.

 

The guests began to gather on either side of the grand staircase, all of them hoping to catch a glimpse of the couple as they descended. Austria and Hungary were about to make their way down and begin the dance. Liechtenstein had no need to look up – it was a sight she had seen before, and besides, there were too many people blocking her view.

Instead she resigned to looking at the ground, watching the way her dress fell. She felt foolish. Was it all a joke? Had she been mistaken?

 

As if to quiet her thoughts, she suddenly felt her hand being gently taken from someone who had approached her from behind. She turned to look up and was shocked to find a handsomely dressed prince!

“Please allow me to be yours this evening, milady.” As the princely figure knelt before her, he gently placed his gloved hand over his heart. “The dress I had delivered to you looks lovely. Just as I had hoped.”

Liechtenstein’s heartbeat hammered in her ears. It was real. Her admirer was here. “Thank you, sir,” she replied, her quiet voice nearly lost to the music.

Then her suitor opened his eyes and looked up at her from where he knelt – bright green eyes, like the first Spring leaves. 

Liechtenstein was taken back, the heat rising to the apples of her cheeks. She knew those eyes. This prince was no man: it was Hungary herself! Never had she considered Hungary handsome before! Every part of her trembled with this new realization.

_But – who had walked down the staircase? Surely there would have been some sort of announcement… did the guests know? Did Austria know? And about that letter... about that "admirer"... did she really...?_

 

“May I have this dance?” Hungary’s question flushed all of hers away.

Liechtenstein froze. As Hungary rose from the floor, she stammered out a response to keep her jaw from hanging uselessly: “By all means…!”

Hungary laughed as she watched Liechtenstein attempt to compose herself. “I’m sorry, did I surprise you?”

“No— I mean, yes— I mean, what’s going on?”

 

“You said you had wanted to dance, right? Well tonight you will. With me.”

 

Then Hungary held out her hand. Liechtenstein stared and swallowed.

An invitation. A chance.

A real chance to dance the waltz at the ball with an actual partner… and with Hungary, no less! Hungary, who had always seemed so out of reach and so far away; Hungary, who had always been kind and friendly to her; Hungary, whose garden green eyes and brave smile never failed to kindle warm and fluttering feelings in her stomach – especially now…

Hungary was offering a dream come true.

Liechtenstein steeled her nerves and, with a decisive smile, she took Hungary’s hand.

“Thank you,” she said. She had meant more in those two words:  _I look forward to dancing with you_.  _Please continue to take good care of me_. She had hoped in vain for those feelings to be understood.

 

Together, they walked out to the ballroom floor. Liechtenstein could see that Austria had entered alone and had taken his place before the orchestra. It wasn’t unusual for him to host events by himself, though with Hungary’s arrival it was remiss to see them apart. He lightly tapped the baton against the music stand, and a commanding silence fell over the ballroom.

Hungary’s hand fitted beneath Liechtenstein’s shoulder blade, the other holding her hand as if it were something delicate. In turn, Liechtenstein desperately tried to remember where her other hand should go and it hovered nervously between their bodies before settling atop Hungary’s shoulder.

 _This is what you’ve practiced for_ , she told herself, _and this is where your practice pays off_.

“It’s starting,” Hungary reminded her, her breath lightly touching the crown of her head.

With six bouncing swishes from the conductor’s baton, the Viennese waltz began to play.

The first few steps came clumsily. Liechtenstein had never had a partner, and following had been foreign to her. Her legs had been unsteady in heels, and coupled with nerves and excitement it was a wonder she was able to walk to the dance floor. She fixated on how every part of her seemed to sweat and overheat. With a cry of surprise, Liechtenstein buckled on the backwards step.

Hungary effortlessly hoisted her back up into step. Liechtenstein went rigid as she was pressed tightly against her, shielded from the dancers behind them.

“Don’t think too much about the step,” Hungary instructed, a patient smile on her face, “it’s just as if you were back in the garden. Listen to the beat, focus on me, and forget everything else.”

Liechtenstein nodded, fought back the doubt gnawing at her heart, and tried again.

_1, 2, 3 – 1, 2, 3…_

Her legs felt steadier now with the repetitive motion: back on her left, then a pivot; their legs crossed and stepped together. Each turn became easier.

_1, 2, 3 – 1, 2, 3…_

She looked up at Hungary and marveled at how her hair – long and tied back – twirled with them. She could feel how much their bodies pressed together in the round, and Liechtenstein soon found how easy it was to forget her name, her history, her station…

_1, 2, 3 – 1, 2, 3…_

She really did feel lighter than air. Liechtenstein leaned gracefully into it, her blonde hair fanning out with every spin. If only she could be closer, if only Hungary would lean in just a hairsbreadth away from touching their foreheads together… why, she might just take wing and dance through the heavens on a soft cloud somewhere…

 

She was Cinderella, dancing at the ball with such a charming prince…

She was in love.

Even if the prince never knew how often her thoughts turned to her, how often the ache of longing afflicted her... this was enough.

 _But, oh_ , she thought joyously to herself, _even if this is just a dream, please let me stay for just a little while longer_ …

 

_1, 2, 3 – 1, 2, 3…_

The music played on, and Liechtenstein remained lost in the dream of the waltz’s sway, and the springtime reflected in Hungary’s eyes.


End file.
